


Starlight Upon Stone

by TheTimelessCycle



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Friendmance more than romance, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-06
Updated: 2014-02-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 09:16:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1171336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessCycle/pseuds/TheTimelessCycle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The evil assailing them assailed her spirit also, and she found it harder and harder to peaceably follow Thranduil's will. She longed for freedom, for a fresh breeze, a sign that there was goodness still in the world around her home, beyond the pretty prison Thranduil was building around his people. She did not expect to find any of those things in a dwarf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starlight Upon Stone

**Author's Note:**

> My vague interpretation of Tauriel's actions in the movie, as well as her and Kili's relationship. I wasn't a huge fan of the way they handled it in the film for a number of reasons, but I at least ship their friendmance. Or something.
> 
> Enjoy,
> 
> TTC

 

 

**Starlight Upon Stone**

No elf was young.

Youthful they appeared in others' eyes, yes, and a very few were the same at heart, but even the least aged of elven kind was no longer young by the standards of the world in which they dwelt. Children were a rarity in their race now, and the Greenwood had not seen a birth for hundreds of years. This was as well, for the once great forest had long since ceased being a safe place for a child, and the elves who dwelt within it knew battle more often than they did song.

By the standards of her people, Tauriel was not of a great age. She was amongst the youngest of Thranduil's people, and the youngest to serve as a captain of the guard, but much of the innocence of youth she had once held within her had departed long ago, swallowed by the darkness that stole all else that was good from the Greenwood, giving it a new name that Tauriel refused to utter. She could not deny, however, that her home had been changed by the shadow, just as Legolas, and even she herself, had been changed. The constant battle to preserve their borders would have wearied even the most persistent and patient of souls, never gaining any ground, for Thranduil still refused to face the problem at its source, and Tauriel, who had once been wild and free, found herself constrained by further bonds than those already laid by her King upon her heart. Her home had become her prison, her days defined by the losing battle against the darkness, and it was a loss, for what victory was to be found in preserving their borders alone whilst the world around them fell? What triumph was there in condemning themselves to a life without light, all to do away with the problems of a world they yet remained a part of?

There was none, she knew. No honor in the King's decision, no pride to be taken in the actions she was forced to commit, and those she was ordered to not. The Greenwood fell stagnant, the air grew thick, and she clung to her precious memories of an open sky filled with starlight, for the dying hope in her heart warned her she may never see such light again.

Youth was gone from her, a hard won wisdom in its place, and Tauriel felt the weight of the chains imprisoning her grow heavier with each day that passed. The evil assailing them assailed her spirit also, and she found it harder and harder to peaceably follow Thranduil's will, even with Legolas beside her. She longed for freedom, for a fresh breeze, a sign that there was goodness still in the world around her home, beyond the pretty prison Thranduil was building around his people.

She did not expect to find any of those things in a dwarf.

The first time they met, he asked her for a weapon. She had responded scathingly, mocking his naïveté in thinking she would hand him a means by which he might harm her, and it had not been until later that she realized he had actually expected her to grant his request. It was trust, unlooked for and unexpected, particularly given the open hostility displayed by all his traveling companions. And he had dared to banter with her, his captor, as though he had nothing to fear. He could not have known that for certain, he had no proof he would not be punished for his outspokenness, but there had been no fear in his eyes when he looked at her, just that spark of mischief that had belayed the attempted innocence of his question.

He was naive, she thought to herself later, despite her best efforts to keep her mind elsewhere. Young in a way she was no longer, spirit as yet not cowed by a world that seemed bent on destroying every trace of light that dwelt within it. Innocent and hopeful enough still to make a promise to his mother most would know should not have been made at all. The same mother who thought him reckless, though Tauriel disagreed. He was simply free, unbound, not chained by responsibility and sorrow. She likened him to a wild horse, not yet broken and tamed, still believing the world his own to claim. He was everything she wished she remembered how to be, and the desire to protect what she had lost but now saw in another was astonishingly strong.

Strong enough to make her pause in battle, her focus momentarily lost, when his cry of pain rent the air. Strong enough for her fury to be a power onto its own, so that only Thranduil's word had restrained her from slitting their foul prisoner's neck when it had so proudly claimed responsibility for robbing the world of what the world could ill afford to lose. It ignited an anger in her that would not be diffused, a fire that led her to disobey her king and test at last borders she had never dared to cross. It gladdened her heart only a little to have Legolas at her side, for she was already grieving a bright smile lost, a pure heart extinguished, and an innocent promise utterly broken.

But when she found him he still clung to life, leaving her standing on the threshold, torn between two choices, and not knowing which might be the right one. Her loyalty should have rightfully belonged to Legolas, but Kili radiated such pain in that moment she could not walk away. Her heart was a pounding drum in her chest, crying out at the injustice committed, demanding she heal this scar of shadow inflicted upon a servant of the light. But she had no way, no means by which to save him, and she felt again the crushing uselessness of being able to do _nothing_.

Then the sweet scent of athelas struck her like a fresh breeze from the west. Hope surged in her heart like the starlight that turned the world to silver, and she seized the priceless herb from the dwarf's hands with eyes wide in wonder, whispering its name again and again. It was hope, it was power, it was the knowledge that here at last was something she could save. Something she could wrestle from the shadow's grasp. Something she did not have to lose. She could keep this bright light burning a little longer, keep that rare innocence alive in defiance to the darkness, and save what had been too often forsaken in the past.

"I am going to save him," she said, and knew that in that moment evil had lost the day.


End file.
